


The Greening

by SylvanWitch



Series: Blessed Sabbats [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanWitch/pseuds/SylvanWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean celebrate the Vernal equinox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greening

**Author's Note:**

> Ostara celebrates the Vernal Equinox as the God (the Sun), a fine young man, begins to let his strength be known and impresses the Goddess with his beauty.

In March the sun is warm but the air still carries a coolness, memories of winter in the low notes just off the ground.

 

Laying in the lee of a hill, back to the grass and eyes in the sun, though, Dean can feel the heat seeping into every pore, can feel his sore muscles loosening, can feel his breath easing into his lungs with every inhale, sweetgrass and good, green growing things making him almost giddy.

 

Eyes closed tight against the glare of noon overhead, Dean’s dozing, mind drifting in and out of waking thought, one hand trailing lazily down his chest, naked to the spring sun and gathering what heat he can.

 

He raises his knees so he can dig his toes into the grass, feel their cool blades tickle up between his toes on the tender skin.  The backs of his thighs prickle at the places where the grass has made lines against him, and he smiles, something secret in it, as he hears Sam moving toward him from above and behind, overhead.

 

He tilts his head back and stares up the impossible length of his brother, whose face is silhouetted by the sun so that he wears an aureole of light and his expression is invisible.

 

Sam folds earthward, his knees bracketing Dean’s head, and Dean can smell his brother’s scent, catch the musk of him and something greener, like the season just coming into bloom.

 

In the shadow of his brother, Dean shivers, not from cold but from a promise of what’s to come.

 

Sam envelopes Dean, curling over him so that he can lick at his mouth in a move that should be awkward from that angle but is not, Sam’s slick tongue sliding and then suckling Dean’s lower lip.  Sam’s hair brushes against Dean’s cheeks, across his closed eyes, so many silken fingers, and he shudders at how undone he is already but something so simple.

 

“Sam,” he sighs like the spring wind, and his brother answers, unfurling until his heavy member rests against his brother’s lips.  Dean breathes out on all that velvet flesh and with the tip of his tongue prints a pattern on the tender underflesh of it.  Sam’s hips stutter, involuntary, and Dean takes advantage of the movement to bury his nose between his brother’s balls and breathe deeply, his tongue working the crease where the sac meets his body.

 

As suddenly as the heat is there, surrounding Dean in Sam, it’s gone, and Sam is crawling around his brother’s prone form, a lazy, catlike grace in the rise of his shoulders as he stalks to his brother’s side, swivels, and swings one long leg over his brother’s hips in a single, fluid move.

 

Sam snugs his knees in close to Dean’s hips, keeps him in the vee of his legs and does not relax downward, instead waiting until Dean is looking squarely at his brother’s face in time to see the wild smile break out across it.

 

Dean takes in a shuddering breath, lets it out with a sigh that is almost a sob.

 

Sam traces the line of Dean’s collarbone with a single finger, stroking across the smooth skin, pausing at every scar to touch the silvery lines of broken skin, his face intent, his mouth moving in what might be a prayer for healing or could be some other holy rite.

 

Dean only knows that when Sam finally stops teasing and takes his nipple between two firm fingers, he cannot keep the keening back and must arch up and into his brother’s touch.

 

This movement brings his jutting shaft in contact with the part of Sam’s thighs, and Dean finds delight in the breathy noise he drives from his brother by dragging his own most tender flesh along the secret places of Sam’s body.

 

Like this they tease one another, in light touches, until Sam rocks forward to trap Dean’s shaft between their bodies and then sinks his tongue so deeply into Dean’s mouth that he feels it in his belly and he’s forced to choke on the moan that drives out of him.

 

The incredible friction of their frottage wrenches from Dean a strangled moan and then a second as Sam breathes, “I love you,” into his ear, the heat of him, the wet promise of his tongue laving a line down his throat, the thrusting power in Sam’s hips, the flex of Sam’s calves where they meet Dean’s own, all of it an ancient rising that drives Dean up, up, up to a height from which he plummets screaming.

 

Their bellies, slick with Dean’s seed, slide with a suctioning sound that makes Dean writhe, pumping until he’s empty and spent, and still Sam undulates against him, arms now beneath Dean’s shoulders, huge hands wrapped around him from behind, gaining purchase by pulling himself deeper into the tight line where Dean’s thigh meets the solid plane of his stomach.

 

Dean gives out a broken sound, wraps his legs around Sam’s back, feels against his feet the powerful bunch and push of Sam’s buttocks as he drives again and again against Dean, who is helpless to do anything but hold on.

 

Dean feels the earth buckle beneath him as Sam thrusts against him for a final time and lets loose a roar like a spring storm breaking, Dean’s name leaving his lips like a mantra in the aftermath of annihilation.

 

There follow long moments of breathing silence when the blood in his ears and the breath of Sam damp against his neck are all that Dean can hear, and he wonders if he has been deafened to everything except  the single song of their sex.  He smells the seeding promise of their mingled semen, feels in the rivulets of it that slide from him earthward the kind of power that promises burgeoning.

 

Sam lifts himself up just enough to stare down into Dean’s face from inches away.

 

“I love you,” he says for a second time, eyes alight with something softer than wildness now.

 

Dean’s smile says what he cannot, and Sam sighs himself down to rest his forehead against Dean’s. 

 

All around them, the earth bursts to life, and they are a part of it, two together who make one new life.


End file.
